Dark Shades of Roses
by Sarah Jane Shaw
Summary: Ireland, Samara and Alydia are torn out of their very different lives and thrown into the Games. Within, they will face their worst fears, experience their greatest triumphs and maybe even find love in the most cruel arena yet. This is the story of three young women and the choices they make in the face of horrific circumstances. Let the 65th Annual Hunger Games Begin!
1. The Reaping - All

Dark Shades of Roses

A fanfiction by Sarah Shaw.

Hey Guys! So this is sort of new territory for me! It's a Hunger Games fic but with all new characters, I know tons of people do these things but they sound fun and should be a great way to try out some new styles and improve my 'skills' - such as they are! This is going to be a chapter fic focusing on three tribute girls in the 68th Games, who we are about to meet in this chapter! I hope you like them! Feedback would be very much appreciated - Enjoy!

Ooh also, if you're a visual person like me, I made a polyvore set for what the characters are wearing this chapter (just take out the spaces) reaping_000/ set?id=110616047

* * *

_Ireland Lerark – Reaping_

_District 11_

_5:11 AM_

_/_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah…._

_Reaping day is here again…_

Sarcasm. Isn't it just the best way the pretend that you aren't afraid? Everyone has their own way of dealing with today; some people hide under their covers and pretend it isn't real, some people pray, some folk are even excited – or at least they pretend to be. Then there's me; hiding my paralysing fear behind a thin veil of sarcasm and denial.

I've been lying awake here for hours now, waiting for the sun to come up and listening to the rise and fall of my little brother's snoring, at least he's managing to get some rest. It's actually surprising how calm he's been in the days leading up to today. He's twelve now so today will be his first reaping. At my first reaping I was a total mess. There were tears, snot and lots of causing scene. I know it's sort of embarrassing but the thought that I could be seconds away from being ripped out of my life, taken away from my family and thrown into a torturous drawn out death sentence was way too much for little twelve year old me to handle. Although to be fair sixteen year old me isn't handling it so well either. I really should get some sleep but sometimes that decision just isn't in your hands you know?

Eventually though the sun rises and I hear my mother shuffling around in the kitchen. Soon she'll come and wake me and my brother and then there'll be no fighting it, the day of the reaping will officially begin.

* * *

_Samara Almas – Reaping_

_District 1_

_7:30 AM_

_/_

In my dream I'm a beautiful princess, you know like in one of those old story books you read when you're a kid? I'm wearing a gorgeous ethereal blue dress - to match my eyes, duh, and I'm waiting in a tower for my prince to come and get me. I know he's coming because he promised me he'd be back, and I know in my heart he will be... Any... second... now.

**BAM**!

The door to my room bangs open and I awake to the _far-too-loud-for-so-early-in-the-morning_ sound of my sister calling my name.

"Mara… Samara… You have to get up, we have to get ready!"

"What?" I say, trying to blink the sleep out of my bleary eyes.

"You have to get up!" She yells and I groan and pull the blankets over my head. I have no idea why she's so worked up but it's not my problem.

"You just interrupted a _very_ nice dream. _I _was a princess."

"Mara the reaping is in less than two hours and we have to be on time. This isn't like school you can't just walk in 20 minutes late!"

Oh right.

I take a deep sign and stick my foot out of the side of my bed, a sign of my intention to get up. Eventually.

* * *

_Alydia Lewis – Reaping_

_District 6_

_8:04 AM_

_/_

"Alydia, I can't find my hat have you seen it?"

"Have you looked on the hat rack? Where your hat usually is?"

"Ha Ha very smart. Of course I've looked on the-"

"Dad?"

"…"

"You find it?"

"…"

"So it was on the hat rack?"

"…No."

Mine and my father's relationship has always been this way. After my mother died I sort of fell into the role of taking care of him. He can't help that he's so useless and I don't mind being the responsible one, we both find comfort in our little routine. This morning I got up at 7:00 to cook up some eggs and fried bread – it's a little tradition we have to treat ourselves to a good greasy breakfast on reaping day. I try to keep conversation light over breakfast as I think my father hates this day even more than me. I notice his eyes look slightly glassy, so when I get up to go dress, I give him a little kiss on the top of his head as I pass. Thankfully it's never taken me very long to get ready, I've never been one of those girls who's obsessed by her looks. I just scrub my face with some cold water, run my fingers through my cropped brown hair and select a simple black dress from my meagre selection and I'm good to go. The whole thing takes me less than 5 minutes.

My father (having found his hat) is waiting for me by the front door of our small shabby flat. He's frowning but when he sees me he smiles, I hope it's a genuine smile but I think he might just be putting it on for my benefit. I grab my umbrella and turn to face him.

"Ready to go Dad?"

"Ready to go Lyd." He says and puts his arm around my shoulders.

We're just out of the door when he speaks again.

"Wait! Just hang on a second, we forgot something."

I doubt that. I have an impeccable memory but I smile as my father fumbles with the door key and disappears back into our humble little home. It's a few minutes before he returns and I pass the time by staring at a particularly nasty patch of mouldy brickwork in our hallway. I really should clean the walls down by our door, we don't want damp getting in. I make a mental note to take care of it when we get back.

"Got it!" My father shouts and a second later he's back, a small bronze ring in his hand. I smile sadly and take the ring from him. Another tradition of ours, although a slightly more morbid one. This was my late mother's wedding ring; and every year I wear it on reaping day. My father says it'll bring me luck but the truth is really more grim, that if my name is called, at least I'll have my token on me.

* * *

_Ireland Lerark – Reaping_

_District 11_

_8:06 AM_

_/_

"Mother, it's after 5 past."

"I know what time it is dear."

"We have to be there by 8.30 for registration, even earlier really because this is Luca's first time and he won't know where to go or what to do and we don't want to rush him and for him to get confused, you know how he gets confused. Besides it's going to take us at least 15 minutes to get there so we really need to-"

"Dear, you know I can't understand you when you speak that quickly."

I sigh and glare at my mother through her reflection in the mirror. After breakfast she sat me down here in front of our tiny living room mirror, apparently dissatisfied with the job I'd done on my hair. She took out her own heavy metal comb and began her work, pulling and snagging smooth the tangles and knots my straight dark hair is so prone to. That was well over five minutes ago but I have a lot of hair and my mother takes her hair combing duties very seriously so I expect this could go on for quite a while if I let it. Which I won't.

"I think my hair is fine now. Can you go check on Luca? Make sure he's not wearing his pants on his arms or something?"

My mother gives me warning look, she doesn't approve of me making jokes at my younger brothers expense but she doesn't say anything. She just touches my face softly and disappears into the bedroom we share.

I rise from my makeshift seat of fruit crates and blankets and look at myself in the small dusty mirror. My mother has pulled my hair back into a sleek ponytail and I must admit it does look a lot better. I'm wearing a simple crocheted dress that my grandmother made me a few years ago that I wear it almost every time I have to look 'nice'. It's getting a little short now and I'm showing more leg than I would usually like but I brush it off, it's a warm day and half the people in district 11 will be wearing clothes that they've grown out of. I glance up at my skinny face and see dark circles under my chestnut eyes, it's pretty obvious I didn't sleep at all last night. I pinch my cheeks in the way my Gran-Gran used to when I was a child in an attempt to bring back some life to my face. It doesn't work but it does hurt. Ow. Thanks Gran-Gran.

* * *

_Samara Almas - Reaping_

_District 1_

_8:30AM_

_/_

"SAMARA!"

"WHAT?! I'm UP!" I scream. "God! Gimme a break..."

I've been up for an hour now I just haven't gone downstairs yet. Getting ready is a serious business, much more important that breakfast or talking to my annoying siblings. Who are being especially annoying today I think. I don't understand why my sister is stressing out so much anyway. We're a big family, we've been through reapings literally a dozen times and none of us have ever been chosen. Besides it's district one, even if we do get called there's always someone there to volunteer. The only thing there is to stress out about today is how you look. Everyone gets dressed up for the reaping, we are going to be on TV after all.

I'm pretty happy with my outfit so far. A strappy pink sundress and some rose gold heels, with matching jewellery of course. One of the perks of having a father who is jewellery merchant is that I easily have the most _enviable_ jewellery collection out of all the girls at my school. I apply some strawberry lip balm to my cheeks and lips, scrunch up my blonde curls (for that extra bounce) and give myself a final pout in the mirror before heading downstairs.

With five children in the family the Almas kitchen is always... lively... and this morning even more so. My mother and father are seated at the head of the table, holding hands over their toaster crumpets and beaming proudly at their children. My three brothers are next, they're all standing around the edges of the table, it looks like they've invented a game in which players whip butter at each other and apparently it's _hilarious_. My brothers are sweet but they're big dumb brutes, they're all like 6 foot or over, all with the signature Almas blonde mop and they're all local athletics stars. The two oldest are too old to be reaped now but the youngest boy, who is still older than my sister and I, is 18 so this will be his last year being eligible for the games.

"Boys, this is SILK so do NOT play your weird butter game near me."

"Lighten up Sam, it's 'The Butter Games!'" jokes my oldest brother and I roll my eyes at his lame pun.

They have evil looks on their faces so I hurry past them to the counter to 'grab a glass of orange juice' aka 'use my sister as a human butter shield'. Ah yes, my lovely sister, my double in every way. As annoying as being an identical twin can be at least she is the perfect size to be my shield. Marilyn (that's her name) is wearing a modest pale blue dress today but she's left her hair loose like me and it falls a bit shorter than mine, stopping just below her shoulders. I get on well with my sister most of the time, except when she's yelling at me to get out bed. She's definitely more highly strung than me but sometimes it's nice to have someone around who gets stressed out so easily, it means I don't have to get stressed out at all.

We're pretty much what everyone thinks of when they picture the perfect District 1 family and you would think that, being from district one, our family would be more focused on The Games. We aren't that kind of people though. My parents try and keep us out of the obsession that people in our district have about the fame and glory that comes from becoming a Victor. I mean fame and glory would be _nice_ but I'd rather not have to kill people to get it you know? I guess what I'm trying to say is that my family and I aren't... what's that word people use for us? ..._ Careers._

A large glob of butter misses me and Marilyn by inches and I'm about to lose it on my brothers but my mother is ushering us out of the door, into the muggy warmth of the day and along to meet our fate, whatever it may be.

* * *

_Alydia Lewis - Reaping_

_District 6_

_8:45 AM_

_/_

I kiss my father goodbye at the registration desk and make my way along into the area sectioned off for girls aged 15. I'm biting my lip out of nervousness but I force myself to stop. Most of the year I don't let myself worry too much about the Games, to be honest I don't really have to the time to worry. I have the house to run and school work to do and my father to take care of. I swallow the sinking feeling I suddenly get when I think of my father.

_He couldn't survive without you._

These are the kinds of malicious thoughts that always creep into my brain on this day. I try to fight them off with logic. My name is only in the minimum amount of times, I don't get Tesserae, my father works 60 hours a week cleaning up mouse droppings at the railway station to make sure I don't have to. As such it's very unlikely my name will be chosen.

_Very unlikely._

* * *

_Ireland Lerark - Reaping_

_District 11_

_8:55 AM_

_/_

We made it on time. I managed to get Luca signed in and I made it to my assigned place in the throngs of District 11 teens. I'm standing with a small group of girls from my class, there are four of us all together. I wouldn't call myself unpopular but I tend to stick with just a few close friends, I don't really see the point of being friends with a thousand people if you don't really care about them all, you know? A secret isn't a secret if you share it with a hundred strangers only when you share it with the people you trust. We pass the time complimenting each others outfits and making nervous chit chat about this and that. I must keep looking over at where Luca should be (although it's impossible to pick him out in the crowds) because my best friend, Taya, grabs my hand.

"He'll be fine. We'll all be fine" She says, and I believe her. There's something honest in her smile that I've always liked about Taya, she's someone you can trust.

"I know" I say and give her hand a squeeze. "You look beautiful by the way, I've always loved that necklace."

She smiles and doesn't say anything else after that, but she doesn't let go of my hand.

Before we know it, before we have any time at all to prepare ourselves the District 11 escort is on the stage and we all fall silent.

There is the usual spiel; the video that talks about the crimes of the past and enforces the idea that The Games are the one true way to wipe out rebellion and discord, a speech telling us how excited to President is for this years Games and so on. All of this goes by in the blink of an eye and my heart is starting to beat so loudly that I'm sure everyone around my must be able to hear it. I sneak a look at Taya as they bring the big glass balls with the names in on to the stage. I wonder if she's worried? If she is she certainly doesn't show it.

As usual the escort will choose a girls name first. He says something before he begins but I can't hear him, all I can think about is Luca, and myself, and how strange this Capitol man looks with his silvery hair and his gold lame trousers. I'm focused intently on how shiny and tight his whole appearance is, when I feel Taya let go of my hand.

* * *

_Samara Almas - Reaping_

_District 1_

_9:01 AM_

_/_

My whole family piled into the while marble courtyard with only seconds to spare. My brother lost a shoe in all the pushing and shoving and we all found the whole thing to be absolutely hysterical. I mean can you_ imagine_ if he was reaped? He'd have to hop on to the train to the Capitol!

I grab Marilyn's hand as we push our way to the front of the crowd. I did not spend the morning making myself look this good for no one to see me. I try to make eye contact with the insect-y camera men in the hopes of getting a close up. The whole reaping experience is very different in what the television calls _'the more affluent'_ districts. It's a celebration here, everyone is so excited and people are laughing and climbing on each others shoulders and just having an amazing time. It's nothing at all like what you see in the recaps of like _District 11_ or some place where everyone is miserable. I would hate to be that miserable. I'm so glad I'm from a fun district.

I turn to tell Marilyn how happy I am to be from District 1 but as I open my mouth the speak she shushes me. The Escort and the procession of D1 Victors are climbing up on the stage and the raucous cheering of the crowd fades down to an excited hum.

"Marilyn, isn't Gloss _hot_?!" I whisper, making my sister and the surrounding girls giggle. That's another fun thing about reaping day, all the kids from school are here and all looking gorgeous! So usually after the reaping we'll all go and grab a bite somewhere, which usually turns into drinks, which usually turns into a party.

They're playing the boring video now and I turn to a girl on my left who I know from school, I believe her name is Jade.

"So who do you think it'll be this year?" I ask, with all the volunteers and careers you sometimes can predict who's going into the arena before the reaping even happens.

"I'm not sure, I think Rider Harkins was talking about wanting to go in."

"That cute guy who hangs around the gym a lot?" I say.

"Which one?" Says Marilyn and we all burst out laughing.

"What about girls? You heard anything?" I ask.

"Nope, but I think we're about to find out." she says.

We've talked over all the speeches but it looks like it's time for them to announce the tributes. I take a quick breath and Marilyn and I cross our fingers behind our backs, it's a tradition we've had since we were little. Jade is still giggling as the Capitol woman reaches into the ball.

"The female tribute representing District 1 this year will be..."

* * *

_Alydia Lewis - Reaping_

_District 6_

_9:05_

_/_

Important events like this always tend to start late in District 6, which is ironic considering we're the transport district and as such should be used to getting things going on time. I don't really know any of the people here so I shuffle my feet awkwardly to pass the time. My sense of dread is growing with each minute that passes and I wish this whole thing would just hurry up. This whole day is traumatic enough, it's cruel to drag it out for even a second longer. Eventually though the entourage of frightening looking people from the Capitol appear, the lights on the stage go up and the 'show' begins. Now the moment is here when two peoples lives are going to be taken away from them forever. I just hope one of them isn't me.

They speed through the speeches and don't bother with the video at all. Perhaps the hold up was because of technical problems, or perhaps they just need to make sure we're on schedule for our broadcast. I don't spend too long worrying about it.

_Don't let it be me._

The mantra begins in my head.

_Don't let it be me._

The escort is on the stage

_Don't let it be me._

He's reaching into the ball

_Don't let it be me._

* * *

"Ireland Lerark"

* * *

"Samara Almas"

* * *

"Alydia Lewis"

* * *

_Me?_

_It's me?!_

_It's me._

* * *

So that's it! Did you like it? Did you hate it? Review and let me know!

See that little button at the bottom? That's the follow button. Go ahead and click it, you don't wanna miss what happens next do you?


	2. Reactions - All

A/N: Hey! How did you guys like my girls? I'm trying really hard to get a chapter out a day at the moment, at least until we get these crazy gals actually INTO the arena, which _should _ be in about 2/3 days. I'm VERY excited about this arena *cackles evily*

**Chapter Two: Reactions **

* * *

_Ireland Lerark _

_District 11_

_/_

I wish I had been listening more carefully to the Capitol man instead of focusing on his stupid trousers because now... Well now I'm not sure what's happening. Everyone around me looks confused too, they look confused and they're also looking at me, looking at me like... Oh no. It can't be me? Surely I would have registered my own name if it had been announced? I'm not that stupid right? But people are still looking me so maybe I am that stupid. I turn to my best friend and and mouth the simple words;

'is it me?'

She nods in response, and I notice there are tears in her eyes, and I feel them starting to form in my own. Without speaking she pulls me into a hug and I do my best to keep from sobbing out loud. People will be watching me and I've already marked myself as incompetent by not even responding to my own name. Maybe people will think I'm in shock. Maybe I am in shock.

"Once again, the name of the tribute reaped is Ireland Lerark!_" _Says the tanned Capitol man in the tight gold outfit and I know I'm out of time. I give Taya my best 'I'm fine' smile and I walk towards the stage. I'm not thinking about my mother, I'm not thinking about my brother. I won't let myself.

* * *

_Samara Almas _

_District 1_

_/_

"The female tribute representing District 1 this year will be...Samara Almas!"

My breath catches in my throat as I recognise my own name. Samara Almas. Yes, that's definitely my name. That means I've been reaped. For the Hunger Games.

_I'm gonna die._

No! I can't think like that. That's ridiculous and I'm going to psyche myself out.

I look straight ahead and see the cameras trained on the crowds, waiting for this '_Samara Almas_' to make herself known. This was _not _the close up I was expecting. I take a step forward and throw Marilyn a quick wink over my shoulder before I head up to the stage. Calm down Samara. Calm down.

I take a few steps and let the cheering of the crowd wash over me. Once the shock starts to wear off I think maybe I'll be able to pull it together. It's District 1 after all, there's always volunteers.

* * *

_Alydia Lewis _

_District 6_

_/_

_It's me._

_It's me._

_It's actually me. _

I clench my jaw up tight and try to prepare myself. Right now no one knows who I am. Right now I'm still who I was a moment ago, just another face in the crowd. But, in one more moment that girl that I was will be dead, and a tribute will stand in her place.

I hold my head up proudly as I walk onto the stage. I take my place behind the Capitol woman and risk a look out at the crowd. No one looks happy. People in District 6 never do look happy, no matter who is reaped. I'm grateful to them, it would be easy for them to be happy, happy that their own daughters are safe. For another year at least.

At the edge of the square I catch sight of my father being restrained by two other men. He looks terrifying, like a man possessed. He isn't crying or shouting or lashing out, he looks how I imagine a sleepwalker to look. Not in control of his own body, his face completely slack, he's trying his best to walk to me, to save me. But he can't. It's surreal to see him like this, the whole scene seems to be moving in slow motion. I turn my face away from him and line my vision above the crowd. I need to be strong now. But, before I do, I try to catch my father's eye and I give him a quick stiff nod. A nod that's meant to mean; 'don't worry' and 'we'll both be fine'. Whether he understands this, or even sees me I do not know but I do it anyway, my own silent goodbye to my life here and to the girl I was a moment ago.

_It's me... and I can handle it. I'll be fine. _

* * *

_Ireland Lerark _

_District 11_

_/_

I keep my eyes on the floor as I walk to the stage. I'm shaking from head to toe, and I'm beyond trying to stop myself. At least I'm not crying that much. The man in the gold trousers pats me on the back and leads me by the arm to my place on stage. He might be doubting my ability to walk as he's gripping me quite tightly. Fantastic, that's just what the people want, a tribute who can't even walk.

I stand there, shaking like a cowardly flan for a few moments while the man asks the crowd if any volunteers would like to take my place. I try not to look too pathetically hopeful, but of course no one comes forward. They never do in District 11. I feel a tear slide down my cheek as my last ray of hope dies in front of me. Gold trouser man flashes me a quick smile before crossing the stage to the glass ball containing the boys names. He reaches around the ball dramatically for a moment, show boating for the crowd, before producing a sliver of white paper.

"Hunter Fallon!"

A boy near the front of the stage steps up almost immediately. He's a tall boy, and well built, with the dark skin and eyes so common in our district. He looks as though he could do quite well in the Arena, and I think, at least my district has a hope.

* * *

_Samara Almas _

_District 1_

_/_

Any second now. Any second now a big tough career girl is going to barge up here and take my place... Any second now.

"Is there no one who would volunteer as female tribute for District 1, in this the 68th Annual Hunger Games?"

Of course there is. There always is.

"No one?

Always.

"Moving on then, to the men."

"No" I say "There must be some mistake." I'm talking out loud but no one is listening to me. I don't have a microphone so the crowd can't hear me but the other people on the stage should be able to. I look desperately around at them but no one is looking at me. They're all watching the willowy man from the Capitol who is about to announce the name of the boy that will join me in the arena.

Join me in the Arena!

I can't believe this, I _won't _believe this. And why does everyone look so damn happy? Don't they know this is a mistake? That they have the wrong girl? I am _not _a career! I am _not _a tribute! Why can't they see that?! I'm clearly distressed now, shouldn't someone come forward?

"Sir" I say, stepping out of my assigned place to tap the escort on the shoulder "Are you sure because-"

The glare the Capitol man is giving me cuts me off cold. I've never seen anyone from the Capitol up close before and honestly I used to think all their plastic surgery looked sort of cool and _interesting, _but seeing it up close. It looks sort of scary. He's sort of scary, like he wants to tear off my arms as punishment for speaking out of turn. I make a motion of zipping up my mouth and throwing away the key and the man returns to his duty. And I return to my _assigned place._

"Garnett Gintaras!"

A tough looking guy I recognise from school steps out of the crowd almost at once. He's fist pumping the air and looking way too pleased with himself, like he just won the lottery or something. Mr. Snooty Capitol man seems much more pleased with him than he did with me and his plastic face even manages a small smile, or at least I _think_ it's meant to be a smile, it just looks painful. He turns back out to the crowd and speaks again.

"Is there no one who would volunteer as male tribute for District 1, in this the 68th Annual Hunger Games?"

At least five people raise their hands.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I say, although by now I know that no one cares. "Seriously?"

The boy I recognise as Rider Harkins reaches the stage first and announces that he 'would be honoured to represent his district as a tribute' and I make a show of gagging into my hand. I find replacing my blinding fear with mockery is helping and light humour is helping.

There's a full ten minutes of arguments before the Capitol security guards have to come and restrain Garnett, Rider and the wanna-tributes. Mr. Snooty Capitol Pants then announces that, as the first to present himself, Rider Harkins shall be named official tribute of District 1. Wonderful. How nice for him.

He leaps up the stairs of the stage two at a time and takes his place on my left, flashing me a huge smile as he does. I sneer back at him.

The mayor makes his boring speech and then it's time for my new friend and I to shake hands. I turn to face him properly for the first time and realise I was right before, he _is _the cute guy from the gym. He used to be friends with one of my brothers so I'm sort of familiar with him. He's medium height, well built, with ashen hair and steely grey eyes. His skin is pale I notice, which is odd for someone from District 1. He grips my small hand tightly in his large one and gives me a grin.

"Are you excited?" He asks.

"Can't wait." I say, and I don't think he gets my sarcasm.

* * *

_Alydia Lewis_

_District 6_

_/_

The lady from the Capitol,my escort, whose name I think might be something Nu, is smiling at me. I worry for a moment that she might want me to make a speech. I quickly dismiss the idea though, I'm 99% sure I've never seen the tributes make speeches before. I give her a tight smile back and this seems to satisfy her as she moves on to choose the name of the male tribute. She has short white blonde hair and kind eyes, and when she speaks she does so in a way that is soft and gentle enough to almost hide the metallic sound of the Capitol accent.

She reaches quickly into the ball and announces the name.

"Tam Basset. Could Tam Basset please come to the stage."

A boy with greasy black hair appears from the middle of the crowd, he looks about 14 years old and walks with measured steps, his fists clenched tightly to his side. He stands next to me on the stage and Miss Nu smiles at him as well. I listen to the Mayor's speech and continue the challenge of not looking out at the crowd. I distract myself by watching the shimmering silvery highlights in Miss Nu's hair. Before long we are instructed to shake hands and I turn to face the boy who shares my fate.

His face is scrunched up in what looks like concentration but I suppose could be pain. He holds his hand out stiffly and I take it. I notice his hand, like his hair, is very oily.

"It's nice to meet you." I say. He does not respond.

* * *

_Ireland Lerark_

_District 11_

_/_

Hunter Fallon, the tall boy with the dark hair and eyes, has just reached my side when there is a voice from the crowd.

"I'll volunteer! I'll volunteer for the Games!"

Mr. Gold Trousers looks taken a back but flashes his best Capitol smile to the crowd.

"Is that a volunteer I hear?" He asks dramatically, as if he's a dame in some amateur pantomime. I can hear the gasps from the crowd, a volunteer here is 11 is unprecedented and I can only imagine a person who would volunteer here to lead a very sad life, as to volunteer is to die.

"My name is Luca Lerark and I volunteer as tribute!"

My heart stops instantly.

No.

NO.

Luca? My baby brother? The boy I held in my arms when he cried? The boy I taught to ride my old bike? The boy who still has to sleep with the candle burning sometimes because he has nightmares? I don't have to look very hard to find him, his arms flailing around dramatically as he marches his way up to the stage.

"Luca!" I say, I can't stop myself "No. Don't. Go back, go find mother!"

But he's ignoring me. If I wasn't crying before I definitely am now, I can barely see him as he walks past me to tap Hunter Fallon on the elbow, as if to tag him out. I scrunch my eyes and try to shout at him to go back, to _run, _before it's too late. But no sound will come out, only high pitched noises of grief.

He takes my hand and I can't believe what's happening. I can't even process what's happening around me any more. _Why _would he do this? I might have been okay, it was a tiny chance but maybe through some miracle I might have made it. But he can't, he's too young and too foolish. My little brother has just committed suicide and there's nothing that can be done to take it back. And worst of all I have this horrible feeling, a sinking gnawing hole in my stomach I know I can never get rid of again. Guilt.

The Gold Trouser man approaches us, probably to ask me to calm down, I'm sobbing quite loudly now, and I grab his arm. He recoils at my touch and I can tell he's disgusted by me. As though I'll some how taint his fancy Capitol suit with my filthy tears and snot.

"Please, my brother... He's too young. Please, please he's only 12... He'll die. _Please_-"

But the music is playing and the lights are going down and I know I've been cut off. After all tributes aren't meant to show emotion, aren't meant to show fear. God forbid our pain and grief would make the audience feel bad for us.

* * *

That's it for another chapter! Can you believe Luca? What a crazy kid. What did you think of the girls reactions? How to do you think they'll handle their goodbyes? Tune in tomorrow to find out! R&R people! I'm kind of winging this so I'm open to suggestions ;)

**See that little button at the bottom? That's the follow button. Go ahead and click it, you don't wanna miss what happens next do you?**


	3. Goodbyes - All

A/N: Hey! Sarah here! I've been having so much fun planning out the cornucopia supplies for the arena that the day has gone by too quickly! I really intended this to be a short chapter but the girls families just had too much to say! I promise to try and speed things up now though, let's get to those games!

'

Chapter Three: Goodbyes

* * *

_Ireland Lerark _

_District 11_

_'_

We have an hour to say our goodbyes to the people who come to see us. After the reaping Luca and I were lead into the Justice Building by a squadron of Peacekeepers. We were lead to the end of a long windowless corridor where a Peacekeeper pulled us apart and we were taken into separate rooms. I tried to put up a fight at them separating us but it was wasted effort. He's just across the hall though and my ears are trained for my sounds of distress that might come from that direction.

I've never been inside the justice building before and despite it's slightly weathered appearance it's really rather beautiful. The room I'm in is sandstone and is decorated with many elaborate tapestries of orchards and happy families of District 11 citizens. I smile at the joy in their eyes and at the fact that even in our art our people are in rags. The room contains a large bay window that looks out over the yard where the reaping is held. If I turn and look out I can see the crowds beginning to disperse, keen to escape the harsh midday sun. I sit on a tapestry bench within the bay window, staring at the heavy wooden door, doing my best to will someone to walk in, to tell me this has all been a misunderstanding and that we're free to go, but of course that doesn't happen.

Taya is my first visitor, she walks into the grand room with no shyness at all. She is the same calming presence that she always is, serenity in human form. There are tracks of tears down her dark cheeks and she pulls me immediately into a hug. We stay like that for several minutes. Both silently crying, grieving for me and my younger brothers lives. After a few minutes she starts to speak, quickly, whispering her wisdom to me with a sort of urgency that is quite out of character for her.

"I know it's hard, but you have to keep the faith and stay hopeful. If you lose hope you'll lose yourself. To be able to find the light in the darkest of times is what it means to be strong and I know you're strong."

"I'm not, I'm weak!"

"I don't mean physically. You have inner strength Ireland, and no one can take that away from you."

"What about Luca? What am I supposed to do?"

"There's nothing you_ can _do except trust yourself to make the right choices even when it's hard."

I don't know what she means.

"We can't both live Taya, we'll both die!"

"Just be you."

She's speaking in riddles and it's frustrating.

"Why did he do this?"

She hugs me again and our time is up. As the peacekeepers escort her out she speaks again.

"Remember, there's more than one way to win."

* * *

_Samara Almas _

_District 1_

_'_

My room is really fancy. It's gold and shiny and everything looks so _luxurious _that I finally understand why our districts speciality is what it is. The door opens and my siblings pour into the room, I suddenly feel very crowded because my three huge brothers take up so much space.

No one makes eye contact with me at first. Marilyn is weeping into a handkerchief and my brothers just look sombre, they stand with their heads bowed low as if I'm already dead and this is my memorial service.

"Hey! Guys! Look at me!" I say suddenly. "You'll have plenty of time to mourn me once I'm dead."

I'm joking, _mostly,_ but the quip is too much for my sister and she burst into full blown tears. Royce, my oldest brother, shoots me a glare and puts his arm around her shoulders. Oh sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive.

"I'm really s-sorry S-samara, it's j-just s-so..." Marilyn wails and I roll my eyes. You would think her distress would upset me more but it's actually cheering me up. Just like usual it's as if Marilyn is doing the worrying for the both of us, allowing me to detach myself from the situation.

"Don't worry Sam" Says my youngest brother "You'll be totally fine, I know it."

"Right, you've got skills." Says Royce.

"What skills?"

"You know, you're pretty..."

"Obviously."

"I meant you're pretty...fast. Like, you can run. Plus you don't have terrible aim."

"Thanks?"

"A-and you're a good climber!" sniffles Marilyn "M-maybe you can hide in a tree."

"Yeah, maybe I can hide for a week and hope the other 23 people just kill each other off."

"Come on Sam, if you can handle us you'll be able to handle those peasants from the lower districts no problem."

"You've always been pretty good at The Butter Games."

I laugh despite myself and punch my brother in the arm.

"Or, you know, you've always been pretty popular, just stick with the tough kids and let them do all the work for you."

"Are you kidding? Who would hang around with her?"

"Hey! I'll have you know I am _very _well liked."

Laughing and joking with my siblings this way feels so normal and freeing that I find myself wishing they would go. It feels so close to home to have them here and I'm worried that once they go it'll hurt even more. That the loss will hurt even more than it did before.

We're still exchanging our morbid quips when the guard enters and tells us our time is up. My stomach sinks and the smiles die on all of our faces. One by one my brothers approach me, tell me they love me and kiss me on the cheek. Marilyn approaches me last, tears streaming down her face and I feel so much sadness seeing her like this, seeing my own face scrunched up in so much pain. Marilyn is like my reflection, she's been with me since before I was born and I can't fully comprehend that I'm going into this without her. She hugs me tight and I kiss her on the forehead.

When I speak again my voice is thick with emotion.

"Goodbye guys, I love you all and I'll see you soon okay. I promise."

And in that moment I believe what I say.

* * *

_Alydia Lewis _

_District 6 _

_'_

I think I might be in a little bit of shock. I've been by myself in my little waiting room for quite a while now and no one has come to see me. However, rather than being worried I actually find myself quite calm. The minutes of peace away from the crowds and the cameras, giving me the much needed time to process everything that has happened.

That being said I do wonder where my Father is.

The room I'm in is probably as big as our living area at home, but much less cluttered. It's quite bare and grey like everything in District 6 but the chair I'm on is nice. It's made of a soft blue fabric I've never encountered before and I sooth myself by making knots out of the tassels that hang from the sides.

I wait for at least half an hour before the door finally opens and my father appears. He looks terrible and his left eye appears bruised.

"Dad!" I exclaim, jumping out on my knotted blue chair "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Just, uh, let's say the Peacekeepers don't like me too much."

I smile sadly as I imagine what might have happened. I no longer wonder why he's so late. We sit down in the chairs and consider each other for a moment, we're both so disoriented by the situation, by the suddenness in which we have to say our goodbyes that we're lost for words.

"I left some chicken on the kitchen counter" I say suddenly "and there's a few pre-made lunches in the fridge for you to take to work. You should be fine for about a-a week or so." I stutter sadly. I honestly don't know how my father will handle life without me, he has so little time to care of himself. He thank me sadly and we fall into silence again.

"I wish I had something I could tell you that will make this better Alydia but I don't. Look at me, I can't even comfort my own daughter."

"That's not true. I'm so happy just to see you."

"I couldn't even look after you when your mother died."

"Dad you did a great job taking care of me."

"No I didn't, I abandoned you. You were so upset but I just _had _to go to work and-" he loses himself to the past for a moment and has to take a deep breath to compose himself "I wish I could have stayed with you more. You know that right?"

"I know."

"You look like your mother. She was beautiful too."

My father has never called me beautiful before and I feel hot tears run down my cheeks before I even know they're there.

"I'm sorry you wasted your childhood looking after me."

"Dad-"

The door opens and my escort enters the room.

"Your time is up, I'm afraid."

"Alydia, I'm sorry it took me so long, I've wasted all our time!" He cries out, rising from his chair and grabbing me in a bear hug.

"No it's fine." I say and I'm really struggling now, trying so hard to hold in my tears "I love you Dad, I love you more than anything."

Peacekeepers are here now, pulling him off me and out of the room as he shouts his final words to me.

"I'm so proud of you. You'll always be my brilliant, brave, beautiful little girl."

* * *

_Samara Almas_

_District 1_

_'_

I'm sort of shaken after saying goodbye to my siblings so when my parents walk in I'm worried I might lose my grip on things. However when they enter they look as composed as they always do and that calms me down a little.

"There were a group of children from your school outside but we sent them away."

"We didn't think you needed an audience right now."

Good. The last thing I need right now are tearful goodbyes with fifty of my closest frenemies.

"They must have been disappointed, I'm like their idol."

My joke does not land and my parents look at me in polite confusion, possibly they just think I'm really _that _full of myself.

My parents don't say much during their visit and the whole experience is just so _awkward _and lacking in emotion, it's like we're all out to lunch together and we're making small talk until our mutual friend shows up. It's in that moment that I realise that I've never really spent any time one on one with my parents before. Being from such a huge family there's _always _someone else there. Huh, what an unpleasant realisation.

My parents offer me some generic advice; 'Listen to your mentor', 'Let your personality show', 'play it safe', blah, blah, blah... And then all of a sudden our time is up. When the door opens I stand up with a little more urgency than I should. I don't know exactly what I expected from my parents but I know it should be more than _this_.

"Mom, Dad, I..."

"We know sweetie, we love you too."

They hug me, kiss me on the head and then they're gone, and I start to cry because I know I'll never see my parents again, and because my last memories of them will not be tearful goodbyes, and kisses, and heartfelt words, but a confusing and cold encounter that has left me feeling more lonely and confused than ever.

* * *

_Ireland Lerark _

_District 11_

_'_

My Mother is my next visitor, she's clearly been crying but is doing her best to hold it together for me. She must have just come from Luca's room.

"Don't be too angry at your brother."

I don't say anything. I'm obviously furious with him.

"He just wanted to protect you"

"He thinks he did this for _me?!"_

"He was scared and confused, and you know how he gets when he's confused." says my Mother and I'm furious with her for quoting my own words back to me but I don't say any more on the subject. I'll have plenty of time to talk to my brother about his impossible stupidity and I don't want to waste the last few minutes I get to spend with my mother arguing. I feel tears start to build in my eyes for the hundredth time today and suddenly I feel very tired.

"Can we just forget about all this?" I ask, my voice cracking with the emotions I'm not ashamed to show.

"Of course baby girl." She says and I get up from my bench and walk over to her. I crawl into her lap the way I used to when I was a child. She sings me songs from the orchards as she strokes my hair and we pass the rest of our time together that way, me weeping into her dress and trying hard to breath her in as much as I can. Her apple and cinnamon scent is precious to me and I want to remember it as clearly as I can.

I so wish she could come with me.

I so wish I didn't have to go.

* * *

A?N: I found this chapter really difficult to write and I'm really happy that it's over! All this depressing stuff is really a downer ^^ As always I must ask you very humbly to review, constructive criticism is welcome!

**See that little button at the bottom? That's the follow button. Go ahead and click it, you don't want to miss what happens next do you? ;)**


	4. Ireland - Trips, Toupees and Tangerines

**A/N: Wassup! So, I'm changing things up a little bit from now on and separate the girls so they each have a chapter all of their own to talk to you! It was just getting a little bit stale and confusing having the perspective jump backwards and forwards all the time. First up is Ireland! Let's see what she makes of the tribute train and her team.**

Chapter Four: Trips, Toupees and Tangerines.

_Ireland Lerark _

_District 11_

I'm reunited with Luca as we leave the Justice Building. I don't say anything to him and he doesn't say anything to me. Honestly, I'm trying really hard not to even look at him because I've _just _managed to pull myself together after saying goodbye to my mother and if he's upset he'll set me off again. I take his hand silently and we walk together to our car. I've never been in a car before, no one has cars in District 11. I've been on a train before though, just once. On weekends and in the afternoons I work in the tangerine groves, which is actually a pretty desirable job allocation by our districts standards - It's fairly shady in the grove, the trees rarely get too high to be dangerous to climb and as such there are hardly any casualties, plus it smells amazing. There also aren't that many orange groves so sometimes, you might get chosen to ride with the fruit to another part of the district where the fruit is packaged. I was picked earlier this year, it's meant to be like this big privilege, to be trusted with the safety of fruit, but I didn't like it much. I didn't like the train, it was dark and hollow and lonely; and I didn't like the responsibility. I mean lets be realistic, even if anyone did try to steal the cargo, I'd be about as much use as flat spoon. But I like this car even less than I liked that train. It feels very claustrophobic and the smooth fabrics are even brighter than the oranges I pick, it's jarring and it hurts my eyes.

The car ride is short and as we approach the station, for the first time since the reaping, I hear Luca speak.

"Ireland? I think-" His voice is uncertain, but it doesn't sound like he's crying, which is good.

"Don't." I say sharply. There will be plenty of time to discuss this horrible situation and his ridiculous stupidity on the way to the Capitol.

I know there will be cameras waiting for us at the station and I feel a ball of shame in my gut. I've cried a lot today, and if there's one thing every tribute knows it's that you don't cry. Crying will make you look weak, stupid, easy prey. I don't trust myself not to cry so I decide that the best thing I can do is put my head down and get us both onto the tribute train as quickly as possible.

We get out of the car and I drag Luca out after me, keeping a tight hold on his sweaty little hand. The noise of the crowds and the camera people is overwhelming and people are shouting at me to look up, but I don't. I keep my head down and march forward, one foot after the other, I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me distressed again. A gust of hot dry wind whips through the station and shuffles the coating of dried leaves that covers every floor in district 11. I take my next step at the exact wrong moment and step on a cork from a discarded apple that the wind has cruelly moved into my path. I feel the horrible lurch that comes when you know it's too late to stop yourself falling, and all I can do is wait. Apparently fate has decided I have not been punished enough for one day.

I push out my hands before I hit the floor to protect my face from the hard, albeit, slippery concrete. GOD. As if I didn't already look weak and stupid enough? Now I've tripped?! What kind of message as I sending? I'm so weak even an old apple can beat me in a fight? Wonderful. I lie there for a moment, hating everything and wishing for the ground to swallow me up when I feel a little sweaty hand grab my own. Luca is helping me up. My 12 year old brother is helping me up.

Forget the Games, just kill me now.

* * *

We make onto the train without any further disasters, although to be fair the rest of our journey is only about 4 feet. It strikes me immediately how different this train is to the 'Tangerine Transport' - the nickname we give to the train at home. It's not hollow and dark at all, it's breezy and cluttered with dozens of gadgets and gizmo's and more plush furniture than I've ever seen in my life. The whole place has been lovingly decorated with the bronzes and warm reds with which our district is associated. It's actually rather beautiful, and I'm sure I would enjoy it more if it wasn't essentially a very fancy prison van, leading me to my execution. That and I'm still embarrassed that I fell. I FELL. I'm probably the first ever tribute to fall flat on her face before even getting to the Capitol. And that's how I'll be remembered:

Ireland Lerark: The Tribute Who Tripped.

The escort in the tight trousers who I learn is named 'Cassio' leads us into the next carriage and introduces us to our mentors. A large man in his early thirties called Chaff, who lost one of his hands in his Games, and an elderly woman named Myrtle. She will be my personal mentor. They sit, side by side, on an elegant maroon love seat at the far side of the carriage. Luca and I stand awkwardly in the doorway, not quite sure what to with ourselves, as our mentors take us in. Cassio stands just to the side of us, gesturing wildly, as if we're some new car that he's trying to sell.

"Well!" He exclaims, a pantomime grin on his tight face. "What do you make of them?"

Chaff smirks and stands up. He's incredibly intimidating, huge, with rippling muscles and several battle scars along his bare arms. He has a good humoured face though, and although I've never met him before, he has a good reputation in the district for being generous and kind, if as well as a real party starter after a couple of ales. Chaff walks towards us, ruffles my hair and says "Do you mind if I talk with the little man?" I look down at Luca, and for pretty much the first time since he volunteered we lock eyes. And I'm surprised by what I see. Luca looks... fine. He doesn't look upset at all. I doubt he's even been crying. He just looks normal, like the same kid he was this morning, whereas I feel (and I'm sure I look) like an entirely different person. His look of complete normalcy startles me and I drop his hand. I nod at Chaff and the Victor leads my little brother out of the room. Cassio follows after them and then it's just me and Myrtle.

She's a sweet looking old lady who must be going on 70. She's wearing an ankle length navy skirt and a woollen rust coloured shawl, what remains of her hair is streaked black and grey, and it's pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She is smiling at me, and I note she is missing several teeth, as she reaches into a bowl of hard candies on the table to her left. No wonder she's missing so many teeth. She looks every inch like a sweet old woman, like she might be someone's kind old Grandmother. It isn't true of course, as a mentor Myrtle must have been witness to some truly horrible things and as a victor, may have done some truly horrible things as well.

She pats the seat next to her, where Chaff was seated, and beckons me to sit down. I comply.

"Hello." I say awkwardly. She smells like candy and moth balls.

"Would you like... a candy... my dear?" Her voice is raspy and she speaks with long pauses in her sentences, as if she needs to catch her breath between words.

"No thank you." I say, and we sit in silence for minute. The only sounds to permeate the air are the '_claks_' as the train rockets along the tracks and the slurping of Myrtle sucking on her candies. She sort of reminds my Grandmothers friends. Growing up I spent a lot of time with my Gran-Gran, my mother had to work very hard to support us, so my Gran-Gran would spend almost every evening taking care of us. I loved it, I still love it, although now it's more us taking care of her. Anyway, Gran-Gran liked to take me around to visit all her old lady friends, she would dress me up in my fanciest dress and parade me around to their homes to sing and twirl and generally show off. She used to say that old people love to see children, they love to see their hope and freshness, since their own hope and freshness is all gone. She was smiling when she said it but I thought it was sad. There would be times that my Gran-Gran would leave the room.; to use the outhouse or to poke around the kitchen for example, and she would leave me alone with one of her old lady friends. That's what being alone with Myrtle feels like.

"My name is Ireland." I offer, although I'm sure she already knows my name.

"That... is a very lovely name... my dear."

"Thank you ma'am" My Gran-Gran always insisted I call her old lady friends _ma'am_

"Do people ever call you... Isla?"

"Sometimes." I say brightly. No one has ever called me Isla in my life. But, I feel I have to be polite.

"I... used to have a cat named... Isla."

"Oh? That's very nice."

"She was... a... ginger cat...Mangy thing...only three legs!"

"I see..."

"But very...sweet. Lovely...really."

I nod my head and smile. Myrtle seems nice, if a little senile, but I begin to wonder if Chaff wants to mentor me too. At that moment Cassio re-enters the room, his silver toupee bouncing along with him like a shiny cloud.

"Cassio... my dear.. Have you met...Isla?"

* * *

By the time we sit down to dinner everyone is calling me Isla, except Luca who just looks politely confused. He and Chaff were away for over half and hour and I'm itching to know what they were talking about. I'm still not sure how to behave with Luca. On one hand I'm furious with him, but on the other hand I'm scared for him. He must be worried, he must be upset and I _want _to hold him and reassure him but I just can't. He _volunteered. _He's killed us both and I just can't understand why.

The Avox assistants bring out trays of food unlike anything I've ever seen before and for the first time I realise how hungry I am. Hunger is something you learn to ignore in District 11, the key is keeping your mind distracted so you don't have time to think about food, and with all that's happened today, I haven't had any problems keeping my mind distracted at all.

The Avox serves me a portion of a rich gooey substance that smells divine. I'm informed that the dish is called 'Tortellini Boscaiola'. I take a bite of the unfamiliar dish and absolutely melt. The tomato based sauce is incredibly rich and the strange shells seem to be filled with a mixture of cheese, red meat and onion. It's delicious. A completely elaborate meal, and I'm tempted to pick up the whole bowl and gorge myself silly. But I resist, not only am I concerned with how my stomach will handle this rich fare but one quick look around the table tells me we're in trouble. We don't have cutlery in our house, but I have seen it used before so I watch the others carefully and try to copy their movements. Luca however, just digs in with his hands as he usually would. I've already done a fine job of looking like a fool today so I don't want to look uncivilised as well. I gently nudge Luca's elbow and give the untouched cutlery next to his plate a pointed look. What happens next surprises me though, instead of Luca picking up his fork, Myrtle and Chaff lay theirs down.

"We're...alll... the same.. here...my dear." croaks Myrtle. Chaff grins as he digs greedily into the messy sauce with his one good hand.

"What a relief!" He says "You know how hard it is to use a knife and fork with one hand?!" We all laugh and I feel a little over whelmed by their kindness and humility. It's easy to forget to our mentors, these two victors who we see on TV almost every year dressed in Capitol clothes and so familiar with Capitol customs, it's easy to forget that they were once just like us. They too came from the orchards and the wooden shacks, their names were pulled out of reaping balls and they too once found themselves on this train, ashamed that they are unable to use a knife and fork. And suddenly, I feel a lot more comfortable in their presence. I smile back at my new mentors and grab my bowl.

This is going to be messy.

* * *

**A/N: The end! What did you think of the new format? How do you like the mentors? Can you believe Ireland tripped?! What IS she like. **

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